


It's Been a Long, Long Time

by doctor_jones



Series: Down on Copperline [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s music, Gen, Historically Accurate Steve, down on copperline, lonely!steve, missing peggy, nostalgic!steve, peggy/steve minor mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:38:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_jones/pseuds/doctor_jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve tries to engage with the world a little bit, and ends up in a record store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Been a Long, Long Time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post.](http://drop-deaddream.tumblr.com/post/106598595156/so-heres-a-fun-fact-its-hugely-unlikely-that)
> 
> Part of the "Down on Copperline" series: scenes of Steve Rogers adjusting to life after the ice.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at shackletons-sardines. Comments and critiques welcome - thanks for reading!

The album was in the back of a box in the back of the record store, which is where Steve found it, gathering dust.

Fury kept telling him to get out in the world, to get to know New York again. For his part, Steve didn't quite feel ready; but he also wasn't sure this was something anyone in the history of humanity had ever felt ready for, and on top of that, he was probably working on a vitamin D deficiency (damn WebMD - it barely even applied to Steve, and yet it still gave him anxiety). And so, on a gray and drizzling Thursday afternoon, Steve put on a jacket, locked his door behind him, unlocked it again when he remembered to bring his phone, and then set his feet for broader Brooklyn. Which is how he found the tiny shop, in a basement space below a psychic’s. 

The store had surprised him - the fact that it existed at all, when so far, his impression had been that music was stored and traded entirely by computer. Curiosity drew him inside, where he found himself the only living soul apart from the girl at the register, whose feet were on the counter as she thumbed through her phone. And indeed, most of the store was given over to gift cards, headphones, and various supplies and accessories. Familiar trays in the center held CDs instead of vinyl, but at the back - at the back, banker’s boxes held a jumbled mess of stiff cardboard envelopes for Steve to walk his fingers through.

The red satin coat on the cover was the first thing to catch his eye, followed by the name - Harry James. Steve was fond of big band music, despite what one might charitably call his “difficulties” as a dancer, and the band leader's name brought back flashes of jazzy tunes and smoky halls. Wiping the dust from the jacket with his sleeve, he handed over a few coins at the register and retired home with his prize. At least he'd have something to tell Fury next time the man hassled him.

Stark, of all people, had given him the record player. Back when they'd first met, Steve had braced for a certain amount of friction with Howard’s son - he'd expected that Tony would see him as a symbol of stagnancy. But everything he'd learned about the man since told him that Tony saw stagnancy as a challenge. Like his father, Stark wasn't content to let anything be just "good enough." In the time that Steve had known him, he'd tweaked Fury's monitors on the helicarrier bridge, making sure they displayed notifications where the man could see them easily. With Banner's help, he'd begun work on countless Hulk-containment measures. He'd adapted Iron Man suit tech into advanced prosthetic limbs. And he'd given Steve a record player that digitized songs, and a computer to keep them on.

Steve flicked the record player on and dropped the needle to the vinyl. The album was an odd breath of fresh air - something that felt both familiar and new; the soundtrack to what might have been. As the music unfurled, Steve poured himself a beer and settled into his armchair. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes, picturing a nightclub on 53rd and bright red lipstick. A slow and swaying tune he’d never heard spun through the room like a pair of dancers, and Kitty Kallen sang his life to him:

_Kiss me once, then kiss me twice_  
_Then kiss me once again._  
_It’s been a long, long time._  
_Haven’t felt like this, my dear_  
_Since I can’t remember when._  
_It’s been a long, long time._


End file.
